


beginning-middle-end

by gingersprite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Modern Westeros, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, also they are both bisexual because i said so, seriously just absurd amounts of fluff, unrequited love (or is it??)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersprite/pseuds/gingersprite
Summary: Theon and Sansa have the worst luck when it comes to Valentine's Day, but maybe also the best.A love story, told in reverse.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	beginning-middle-end

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Theon gets hurt quite a bit here, entirely on accident, and there is some description of blood and scrapes. Most of the injuries that happen here are relatively mild, but there's one that's particularly cringe inducing- check the end notes if you are especially concerned.
> 
> Title is taken from Leah Nobel's song of the same name, because like every basic bitch I watched the latest TABILB movie and now that song lives in my head rent free.

_Now_

Theon scrubs his palms nervously on his dress trousers; he’s already started sweating, which- beyond just being gross- will definitely give him away. And he absolutely _refuses_ to let these months of planning be ruined by stupid sweaty palms. 

Because tonight’s the night he asks Sansa to marry him.

He already knows she’ll say yes, since it’s something they’ve talked about in depth- she even helped pick out her own engagement ring. But despite her practical nature, Sansa’s a romantic at heart, so she’d left the actual proposal up to him. She made it clear that it could be anything he wanted, big and flashy or small and intimate: they’ve already decided they want to spend the rest of their lives together, so this whole thing is just about what makes them happy.

He’s taken care of everything: they’ve got a table at one of Sansa’s favorite restaurants, and he’s going to have them bring out the ring out with dessert (on top of a lemon cake, not baked inside it or in a champagne flute, because he’s heard way too many horror stories about people accidentally eating the ring and that is _not_ going to happen to them.) He’d talked with the wait staff over the phone prior to their arrival, and they’d said everything was clear to go ahead- they’d had plenty of couples ask for similar things, so they knew what to do.

And, okay, sure it’s a bit of a cliché, proposing on Valentine’s Day, but that’s all part of Theon’s plan. It’s too predictable, so Sansa won’t expect him to do it now- unless of course she realizes that he knows that _she_ knows it’s predictable, in which case then she’ll be expecting it, unless she assumes that he’d know her well enough to know she’d figured it out and would change his plans to something different, _unless-_

 _‘Stop it, you’re overthinking it,’_ he scolds himself mentally. Whether she figures it out or not, she’s going to say yes. He’s been agonizing over the perfect proposal speech for weeks now and he thinks he’s finally got it; all that’s left is for him to actually pop the question. 

“Theon, is everything alright?” Sansa asks. He realizes that he’s been staring awkwardly over her left shoulder while having this mini breakdown, and quickly fixes his eyes back on her. 

Gods, she’s stunning; especially so tonight, but he thinks she looks stunning even in sweatpants and a baggy Vale U t-shirt. She’s wearing the silver pendant he got her for her birthday, the one with the mother-of-pearl inlay, and he almost laughs when he realizes how perfectly it’ll go with her engagement ring once it’s on her finger. Said ring is currently tucked away inside a box in his inner jacket pocket, where it’ll be safe until it’s time for him to hand it over to the waiter, since he’s too paranoid to let it go until the very last second. 

“Yeah, ’course. So, what was it you were saying?” he covers. Sansa takes that as a cue to start in about her latest project at the magazine. Normally he genuinely enjoys hearing her talk about her work, but tonight he’s too distracted to focus properly. He just can’t stop thinking about the fact that in less than an hour, she’s going to be his fiancée. 

Life isn’t a song, but she makes him want to be like a hero in one. 

“Seriously, babe, you seem distracted? You feeling okay?” she says again.

He tries to laugh it off, but it’s clear she’s not buying it. Maybe he should just hand the ring over now and have them bring the dessert out early, otherwise she’s sure to catch on. “I’m fine, promise! Ah, just gotta visit the little boys’ room. Be right back!” 

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek and heads towards the back of the restaurant where the toilets are, veering off for the kitchens once he’s out of Sansa’s line of sight. Theon catches their waiter, a skinny guy named Lancel, on his way back from serving another table. 

“Hey mate, you know the thing we talked about? Alright if we do this now?” he asks. Lancel shrugs. 

“Up to you. You got it?” 

Theon pulls out the ring box and does a perfunctory double-check (surprise, it hasn’t moved since the last time he checked on it), taking a moment to admire it: a dainty silver band with two white sapphires offsetting an iridescent blue pearl. Lancel whistles in appreciation at the sight.

“Right now, remember, the lemon cake,” Theon says.

“Yeah, got it.” 

Theon hands over the box and watches Lancel head into the kitchen. Then he shakes out his hands and takes a deep breath to steady himself before heading back to the table.

When he slips back into his chair he’s surprised to see that some of his nerves appear to have rubbed off on Sansa. She’s moved his dinner plate and set a small envelope in its place.

“What’d I miss?” he jokes, trying to put her at ease.

“I know we’ve never been big on the material side of Valentine’s Day, but I found this and it just seemed too perfect not to give you,” she explains. “It’s probably a little corny, but… well, go ahead and open it, you’ll see.”

He looks at her with a raised eyebrow, unused to seeing her be so hesitant with her words, but opens the envelope anyways. He smiles indulgently when he pulls out the greeting card, a cheesy Hallmark type with a cutesy animal and hearts on the front; when he opens it up another card falls out. This one is much smaller, about the size of an index card folded in half, and when he picks it up he realizes he recognizes it.

It’s one of those Valentines little kids give each other in primary school, the kind that comes in themed packs- this one has Cinderella, blowing a kiss to her mice friends. When he opens it up, he’s greeted with his own childish scrawl.

“Do you remember when you gave that to me?” Sansa asks. “I think I was about eight years old, you were eleven. Robb and Jon and I were filling these out for our classes, and you didn’t have any, so we shared ours with you.”

“And I made one for you, even though we were in different years,” Theon finishes. He remembers that day now, just one of the many times he’d tagged along with the eldest Stark kids to avoid going back to his own home; he’d wanted so badly to participate in this silly little activity, but Balon Greyjoy wouldn’t hear of it. Robb had his superheroes, and Jon had Star Wars characters- and Sansa, as always, had her fairytales. They’d all given him enough for his classmates, and he’d spent the afternoon filling them out. He gave one to Robb and Jon each, because they were in his year, but he’d also made one for Sansa as a thank you for including him. 

“I can’t believe you kept this,” he says softly, still fixated on the decades-old words. _To Sansa,_ it reads, _thank you for sharing with me. You always tell the best stories when we all play. Don’t tell anyone, but you’re pretty cool. I’m glad we’re friends. From, Theon._

“I found it, stashed away with some of my mum’s old scrapbooking stuff,” Sansa explains. “And it just got me thinking about how far we’ve come. How you’ve always been there for me.”

Theon chuckles, “way I remember it, you were the one doing me a solid!” It’s only been in recent years that he’s been able to recognize what a lonely child he was, how desperate he’d been for connection; little moments like this had meant the world to him, and they did still.

Sansa shakes her head and reaches across the table to take his hand. “I was a girly-girl from a family of boys- and one tomboy. No one had ever called me ‘cool,’ or said they liked listening to all my silly stories. I know you were just being nice-”

“I wasn’t. I mean, I _was,”_ he corrects, “but I meant it. I love your stories, how you see the world. You’re my favorite person.”

She smiles so hard it looks like her cheeks hurt. “You’re my favorite person too. I love you so much, Theon.”

“I love you too-”

Before they can get any sappier, Lancel returns carrying a tray with two plated desserts and champagne flutes, setting the items down in front of them. 

“Here are your drinks and,” he looks at Theon and does a very unsubtle wink, “your _lemon_ cakes.”

“Ah yes, thank you!” Theon exclaims, sending out clear ‘buzz off’ signals in an attempt to get the waiter on his way. He studiously avoids looking at Sansa’s dessert, focusing instead on her face- he doesn’t want to miss the moment she realizes the ring is sitting prettily on top of the cake. 

But Sansa’s barely even glanced at her plate, keeping her gaze on him. While he’s trying to come up with a way to subtly get her to look down, he grabs one of the champagne flutes in front of them and takes a huge gulp. Something seems to stick in his throat, probably left-over nerves, and he swallows thickly. 

“Sans, go ahead and try some cake,” he urges. She gives him a puzzled look but indulges him, takes her dessert fork and looks down…

At the perfectly normal lemon cake on her plate. Not even a hint of blue or silver, no way it’s simply sunk down into the whipped topping. Panic starts to rise in his gut as Theon realizes the ring isn’t there; he looks at his own cake in case they got mixed up, but nope.

“Theon, what is it?” Sansa asks.

“Um, nothing, just-” He’s failing to come up with a convincing lie. Fighting to keep calm, Theon frantically flags down Lancel, who luckily hasn’t gone far. 

“Everything going well?” the waiter asks placidly.

“Yes, yes, fine!” Theon laughs nervously. “I just had a question about our _special order,_ with the _cake.”_

“Sure, the lemon cake. It’s made fresh in our kitchen every night-”

Theon gives up all pretenses and hisses, “but what about the _ring?_ Where’s the _ring?”_

“Wait, you wanted the ring… in the cake?”

“Yes of _course_ I bloody did, that’s what I asked for!” Theon says hysterically. “Where the fuck did you _put_ it if not…” 

Lancel’s eyes inadvertently flick to the champagne glasses, one noticeably emptier than the other, and all the color drains from his already pale face. “Sir… I think there’s been a mix-up.”

Theon risks a glance at Sansa- his girlfriend, who right this moment should be putting an engagement ring on her finger, except said ring is currently in his stomach- who looks torn between comforting the panicking waiter and scolding him for making such a mistake. 

In the end she settles for rushing Theon to A&E, where he ends up being examined by Podrick Payne. The nurse has a weary look on his face of one who’s already had way too much experience with Theon being in hospital. Seeing as this isn’t the first time Theon’s ended up here on Valentine’s Day, he’s also getting rather sick of seeing Pod under these circumstances.

The physician on-call is old Doctor Luwin, who orders an X-ray just to confirm what they already know: there’s definitely an expensive ring making its way through Theon’s digestive system.

“This isn’t so uncommon,” the nurse tries to reassure them both, “though it does usually happen to the ladies.”

“I’m going to kill that little git waiter,” Theon moans. Sansa rubs a comforting hand across his shoulders.

“So, what do we do here?” she asks.

Doctor Luwin explains, “well, it’s a small enough object and nontoxic. Usually in these cases, we recommended just letting nature take its course.”

Sansa pales. “You mean…”

“This too shall pass,” the doctor says seriously, like he isn’t talking about Theon shitting out a ring. “If it doesn’t make an appearance over the next couple days, bring him back in and we’ll discuss surgically removing it.”

Theon wants to thump his head against the exam room wall.

“That’s it, I’m cursed,” he declares as they leave the hospital. “I’ve no idea why, but apparently I’m cursed to always end up hurt on Valentine’s Day!” Sansa takes his arm and cuddles into his side as they walk.

“It does seem to be a pattern, doesn’t it?” she muses. 

“There was the time with the dresser, and the bike, and the thing-we-don’t-speak-of!”

She nods sympathetically, having been there for each unfortunate incident. “You don’t have the best luck when it comes to this day.” Theon’s about to agree with her, but then he thinks better of it.

“Well, I dunno if I’d go that far. I’ve been pretty lucky in other areas,” he says. Theon makes them stop walking and turns her in his arms to face him. “I’d planned on this whole speech, but it kinda seems like we’re past all that. And now I don’t even have the ring, at least not on hand.”

Sansa cups his cheek lovingly. “Oh, babe, you know I never needed a fancy speech from you.”

“Still, I wanted to give you that.” It occurs to him then that while the cat is well and truly out of the bag, he never really asked the question. “I guess… I mean, do we just wait now, until it… y’know.”

“Theon Greyjoy, if you think I’m waiting another _moment_ to get to call you my fiancé-!”

“Okay, point taken!” he laughs. “Marry me, Sans?” He scarcely gets the words out before she’s kissing him over and over, in between several declarations of ‘yes.’

So, maybe this wasn’t how he’d planned to propose- he certainly didn’t imagine being in a hospital parking lot, or that he’d have to wait on actually giving her the ring- but it’s certainly not the most disastrous thing they’ve had happen on Valentine’s Day. In fact, depending on how he looked at it, this holiday had actually worked out pretty well for them over the years.

(But, maybe they’ll skip it next year, just to be safe.)

* * *

_Then_

Theon can feel Lady’s judgmental gaze from across the room, and he’s already decided he doesn’t care for that shit at all. He doesn’t even need to look over his shoulder, it’s like her yellow eyes are burning holes in the back of his head. Sure, Lady knows plenty of tricks, but he’d like to see her try and use a power drill without opposable thumbs, _thank you very much!_

“Gods, I’m being emasculated by a dog,” he grumbles. Every time he looks back trying to catch her in the act, she’s doing a great job pretending to be taking a nap. Theon knows better, though. In Lady’s opinion, Sansa’s at the top of house hierarchy with Lady just behind, whereas Theon falls somewhere below Smiler the cat. Theon wouldn’t feel so bad about that last bit except Smiler literally got his name from being hit by a car and having his broken jaw heal wonky, so no matter how much he loves that cat it still feels like sort of a dig.

He’s trying to get back to focus on the project at hand (while still attempting to catch Lady in the act) when he hears a key jingle in the lock at the front door. Dammit, he hadn’t realized how fast the time went by. He’d planned on having this done before Sansa got back from class, but apparently assembling a bed frame takes way more time than expected. 

The Theon from years ago never would’ve expected that this is how he’d be celebrating Valentine’s Day with his girlfriend; hells, before Sansa he’d eschewed the whole holiday altogether. Sure chocolates and flowers were nice, but Theon knew this would be a gift she’d really love. Even though they’d moved into their new flat well over a month ago, they were still using a plain IKEA bedframe; and while it got the job done, he knew Sansa wanted something with a little more character, so he was happy to make that happen.  
After some searching, he found an antique wooden bedframe with a beautifully detailed headboard. It was exactly the sort of thing Sansa would’ve picked out for herself, and it was the perfect size for their mattress- the seller had told him that he’d have to assemble it himself, but Theon had grown up repairing boats, so how hard could this be?

The answer, he’s now finding out, is ‘very.’

It’s all fine, though, because he’s just about done. All that’s left is putting the mattress back on, which after manhandling a solid wood headboard around feels like nothing. Plus this frame is a little lower to the ground than their previous one, so he doesn’t even have to lift the mattress that much, just sort of slide it into place. He’s already got a fresh sheet on so then it’s only a matter of putting the duvet on, then of course the half dozen decorative pillows Sansa loves, and he’s…

Done, and just in the nick of time. The flat door clicks shut and he hears the familiar sounds of Sansa puttering around the place, setting down her books and starting to unwind from the day.

“Babe, you in here?”

“In the bedroom!” he calls back, struggling to keep the grin out of his voice. 

“I had the wildest time in class today, you gotta hear…” Sansa trails off as she walks in and spots the fruits of his labor. Her eyes widen almost comically as they sweep from headboard to footboard, taking in the elegant swirls and subtle cutouts of the design. 

“Happy V-Day, Sans,” he says. 

_“Oh!”_ she breathes. “Theon, you did this?”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Do I _like_ it? It’s absolutely _gorgeous!”_ She runs her dainty fingers along the carved bedposts, her face the picture of absolute delight. 

Maybe it’s not the most progressive thing, but it does weird flip-floppy things to his chest to be able to provide for her like this. It makes their flat feel like an actual _home,_ one that they’ve built together. He never wants her to doubt for even a moment that he’s just as involved in this relationship as she is; and hopefully someday he’ll have the words to tell her that, though for now he’ll have to let his actions speak for him. 

“The seller said it belonged to their great-grandparents,” he explains. “It’d just been sitting packed away in storage for decades. Had to assemble it myself, but it was worth it.”

Sansa finally tears herself away from petting the bedframe and throws her arms around him, pressing gleeful kisses to his cheeks and mouth. “It’s more than worth it, it’s _perfect!_ Gods, would you look at us, with our own flat and a proper bed!”

“Like a real pair of grownups,” Theon teases. “I know it’s not the usual flowers and chocolates, but it just-”

“- seemed right?” Sansa finishes for him. “I completely agree. So… wanna give it a test drive?”

Theon gasps, “why Miss Stark, are you trying to _seduce_ me?”

“Oh no, I just thought you seemed rather knackered after all that heavy lifting!” She giggles, and he turns that into an excuse to kiss her. He lets Sansa push him towards the bed, ostensibly to ravish him, and he falls back-

\- and keeps falling, and then pain explodes white-hot at the back of his head, his entire field of vision greys out and he can barely hear Sansa’s startled scream over the ringing in his ears.

“Wha… th’ fuck?” he slurs, struggling to make his mouth form the words properly. He might’ve bit his tongue at some point too.

“D-don’t move!” Sansa says, panicked. “Just, just stay right there!” She’d climbed off of him at some point and came back with a hand towel. It hurts pressing against the back of his head but seems to do a decent job of stemming the blood flow. His head swims as she helps him transfer from the bed to lie on the floor.

Now that the adrenaline is starting to fade he’s able to take stock of the situation. Apparently he hadn’t done as great a job as he’d thought at assembling the frame. One corner of the bedframe had given way and fallen; judging by the bloody smear on the bedside table, he’d gashed his head on the corner going down.

“Shit, did I break the bed?” he asks. It’d be a shame to ruin it now after all that work. Sansa lets out a hysterical little laugh.

“I don’t give a shit about the bed, I’m trying to make sure your brains aren’t leaking out!”

“Head wounds bleed a lot. ‘S probably fine.”

“Maybe I should bring you into A&E, you could have a concussion.” She wipes her bloody fingers on her jeans and fumbles with her phone.

“Oh god no, please don’t call an ambulance, if you have to explain this to them I think I might _actually_ die of embarrassment,” Theon groans. He really doesn’t want to spend another Valentine’s Day in hospital, especially not after last year.

“I’m not calling an ambulance, I’m texting Pod,” she explains.

“That nurse from when I-”

“The very same.” She rolled her eyes at the look on his face. “Oh don’t get jealous, he works with my sister-in-law. Actually, I was thinking of setting him up with Jeyne.”

“You do realize if they got married, she’d be Jeyne Payne,” he points out. Sansa’s thumbs slow in their typing.

“Maybe he’d take her name, you don’t know,” she argues. “Whatever, not the point. How’s your head, is your vision blurry?”

He squints up at Sansa, pleased to see there’s only one of her floating above him. “Not too bad.”

“Okay, well, Pod says I should probably still bring you in. Even if you don’t have a concussion you’ll probably need stitches.”

Theon props himself up on one elbow, keeping the towel firmly clamped to the back of his head with his free hand. As he sits up his eye catches a glint under the partially-collapsed frame. 

“Um, was this supposed to be important?” Sansa asks, fishing the piece out and holding it up: it’s an angle iron. He’s certain he only got exactly the number of angle irons he’d need, which means…

Theon groans. “I should’ve just asked Gendry to help me.” He looks over to the corner where Lady is still sitting on her dog bed, giving him a look that somehow says, _‘I told you so.’_

That fucking dog must be feeling so _smug_ right now.

* * *

_Then_

Theon comes to in fits and starts. He can’t remember how he got here… wherever ‘here’ is. There were people in scrubs… nurses, he supposes, and they had taken him back for some reason. Someone had put a mask over his face and told him to breathe deeply and count back from ten, but he only remembers reaching the number eight. 

Is that a problem, that he didn’t get to ‘one’? Did they have to stop the surgery because of that, is he just waiting here until he can get it right? He starts shifting around in the hospital bed hoping to get someone’s attention and tell them he’ll do it right this time, but his arms and legs don’t seem to want to get with the program.

“It’s alright, Theon, everything went just as it was supposed to,” a voice says reassuringly. There’s a face floating over his, one he thinks he’s supposed to recognize. Dark hair, olive skin… shit, he knows he knows this person! “It’s Talisa, do you remember me now?” 

_Oh!_ Yeah, that makes sense, she’s a doctor after all. She’s such a smart lady, pretty too, he’s got no idea how Robb managed to snag someone so out of his league.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Theon.” 

Fuck, was that out loud? 

“Yes, it was.” _Shit._ “Would you like to talk to Sansa now?”

Oh hells yeah, Sansa! He wonders vaguely if his heart is making the monitor beeps speed up like in a cartoon, because that’s how it feels. But he’s pretty sure that happens every time he thinks about Sansa, even when he’s not in hospital with a broken dick. Poor Sansa seemed so upset before they took him back, he hopes she isn’t still blaming herself; it’s not her fault they got a little carried away, he likes making her feel good, and she loves getting to be on top when she takes him-

“Right, that’s enough, here she is!” Oops, apparently he was doing that again, talking out loud. Thank fuck for doctor-patient confidentiality.

“Hi baby, how are you feeling now?”

“Sansa!” Oh good, he’s pretty sure he meant to say that out loud. Wait, is he still talking now? Fuck, this is gonna take some time to get used to.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about any of that,” she says gently. “You just rest a bit, then once you’re a little more clear-headed I can take you home.” That sounds great, he’s always hated being in hospital any longer than necessary, especially after Mama… then fingers start carding through his hair, and it feels so good he forgets what he was thinking about before. She scritches lightly at his scalp and he practically _melts_ at the sensation; Sansa giggles, then starts humming softly. Something light and swingy, but not too fast- there’s actually something rather familiar about it, he just can’t place his finger on what…

The thought comes to him in a flash and he jolts upright, or some approximation of that.

“We had a date!” he exclaims. “We’re supposed to go dancing for Valentine’s Day!” Now Sansa has that look she gets when she’s sad and trying hard not to show it. 

“Yes, that’s what we’d planned.”

“You were really looking forward to it.” She nods tentatively, and he tacks on, “even though I can’t dance?”

“That’s not true, you’re a fine dancer,” she corrects.

“But now we can’t go?” He thinks he might be pouting at that, but surely he’s entitled to a bit of pouting after everything he’s been through today.

“No strenuous movement after surgery,” the nurse who’s monitoring him reminds. He’s a dark haired guy, little on the husky side. Nurse ‘You-Can-Just-Call-Me-Pod’ Payne. Yeesh, that’s a shite name for a nurse. Thank gods Theon seems to have gotten control over his runaway mouth finally; last thing he wants is to antagonize the person controlling his pain meds. 

“He can move about if he feels up to it, so long as he keeps his heart rate down. And,” the nurse tacks on, “no sex for at least a month. That includes any sort of self-pleasuring.”

Theon wants to protest, until Nurse ‘Trust-Me-I’ve-Heard-It-All-Before-Please-Just-Call-Me-Pod’ says seriously, “an erection will cause the stitches to tear, and could result in future erectile dysfunction, or curvature of the penis.”

“Copy that!” Theon squeaks. He’s a mature adult, he can keep himself flaccid if it means protecting Little Theon’s health. Crap, maybe he spoke too soon about that brain-to-mouth filter, judging by Sansa’s facepalm.

“It’s fine, sweetheart, you can take all the time you need,” she assures him. “Listen, I- do you remember saying anything before you went back for the surgery?”

“Um, maybe?” It’s still taking quite the effort to remember what things he said at the start of this conversation. She takes his hand again and smooths her thumb over the back tenderly, then bites at her lip like she’s thinking through what she’s about to say next.

“Alright, well, you probably won’t remember this anyways, but just in case you do: I love you too, Theon.”

Theon stares at her in awe. That’s right, he told her he loves her! And she said it back! Well, the rest of Valentine’s Day might be ruined, but at least they managed to do that, even if it was under less-than-ideal circumstances.

“That is. Fuckin’ awesome,” he slurs, before promptly passing out again. 

In his defense, though, he’s had a pretty wild day.

\---

The person in the chair next to her keeps shooting dirty looks her way, but Sansa can’t stop her knee jiggling anxiously. She’s been in this hospital waiting room for two hours with barely any word beyond the initial update that Theon was being treated. Treated for _what,_ now, that’s the question.

“Sansa?” At the sound of her name, she pops her head up so fast her neck creaks.

“I… Tal?” She knew her sister-in-law was a trauma surgeon, but it hadn’t occurred to her when she rushed Theon to A&E that Talisa might be the attending. In her defense, she’d been a little distracted by her boyfriend writhing and moaning in pain. “What’s going on, can you tell me anything?”

The smile Talisa gives her is more Doctor Maegyr than her true smile. “Come on, let’s walk. I can take you to him and we can talk about it.”

Sansa shoots to her feet and follows Talisa down the hall. “So, what happened, is he gonna be alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Talisa soothes. “Can you tell me what you remember about what happened?”

“We were…” Sansa pauses, feeling her cheeks flush. “We were being intimate, and then suddenly he was in pain. I don’t know what happened, he’s been fine all day, and nothing like this has ever happened before! I thought maybe it could be his appendix, or his kidneys?”

“Those are all doing fine. Theon suffered a tear to his tunica albuginea, what’s commonly called a penile fracture.”

Sansa blinks. “Is that- please tell me that’s not what it sounds like,” she begs.

Talisa nods sympathetically. “Unfortunately, it is. We did an MRI and an ultrasound to confirm it. Thankfully it was a relatively minor break, and it didn’t damage the urethra. Our next step is to surgically repair the tear. We’re having him prepped for surgery right now, but you can see him before he goes back and then you can wait in my office until it’s finished.”

“Oh, okay. Just, um… please tell me I didn’t break my boyfriend’s penis,” Sansa says faintly. Talisa’s professional doctor mask cracks a bit at that. Sansa buries her face in her hands and lets out a muffled wail. “Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck! I _did?”_

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Talisa assures her, “this happens more often than you’d think, usually when the receiving partner is on top-”

She moans, “no, stop talking, I can’t be discussing this with my brother’s wife!”

“Sansa, I’m speaking as a doctor, not your sister-in-law, but I’ll understand if you’d rather talk to someone else.”

“I… I suppose not. This is all confidential, right?”

Talisa mimes zipping her lips, “not a word to anyone. Now, let’s go see your man before we fix him up. He’s been asking to see you.”

They duck into an exam room where Theon is laid out on a hospital bed; he looks rather out of it, but at least he doesn’t seem to be in any pain. His eyes are slightly unfocused though he still lights up when he spots her. Sansa rushes to his side and tentatively takes his hand.

“Hi, babe, how are you feeling?” she asks.

“I am not!” he says brightly. “They’ve got me on some drugs, some really great drugs.”

Sansa whips back around to Talisa, who quickly reassures her, “no narcotics, he was very specific about that.” She relaxes a bit at that. Theon’s worked so hard to stay clean, she’d never forgive herself if her actions caused him to relapse.

“Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Sansa says.

Theon scoffs at that. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Tally here says it can happen to anyone.” That only makes Sansa worry more: Talisa never lets Theon call her ‘Tally’, so she must be feeling extra sorry for him right now. 

“We need to take you back now, Theon, but it’s going to be done before you know it,” Talisa says eventually. Sansa presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

“And I’ll be right here when you wake up,” she promises. 

“M’kay, I love you,” Theon mumbles sleepily. The orderlies start moving in, getting ready to wheel him down to the operating room. Sansa watches him go, completely stunned. 

This is the first time Theon’s said he loves her.

* * *

_Then_

Valentine’s Day comes again, and Sansa finds herself in a predicament. It’s been a year to the day since she and Theon started hooking up and things have been pretty great- dare she say spectacular, even. What they have going is fun and easy, and contrary though it may seem, it’s actually made them better friends. They’ve been mainly exclusive, though it’s strictly for safety purposes: this is definitely not a relationship. 

Sure they hang out together, and those outings don’t always end in sex (though they often do) but that’s just because they’re friends, benefits notwithstanding. That’s all it is. So when Theon told her that Violet, the cute receptionist at his work, asked him out…

Sansa said he should go for it.

_Gods, why did she tell him that?_

She hadn’t planned on it, it had just slipped out. But he’d been telling her all about how flirty Violet had been with him, how sweet she was, and- well, it seemed like he needed a little push! They’d been talking about their resolutions for the new year and he’d floated the idea of seeking out something more. It wasn’t like he needed her _blessing_ or anything, she just figured she’d try to be supportive of him actually dating again. They both knew exactly what this was, just a fun thing to pass the time. It was always destined to end, probably sooner rather than later.

Sansa just hadn’t expected it to _hurt_ this much. Theon had been practically radio silent ever since his first couple dates with Violet, but since Robb told her he had Valentine’s plans, she assumes that means it’s going well for the two of them. The furious Instagram stalking Sansa has done (but would never admit to) tells her that Violet is a nice girl, a bit of a partier with the same taste in music as Theon. She’ll be good for him, Sansa’s sure of it.

“It’s for the best,” she tells herself. She wrestles to uncork the cheap bottle of wine she bought herself, regretting that she didn’t go for a screw top. “You always knew this was just a fling, you _knew!_ It had to end at some point, might as well be now!” That’s when the blasted cork tears, sending gritty pieces into the wine. She swears and slams the bottle on the counter, horrified to realize she’s starting to cry. 

This was so stupid, she’d thought she was done crying over boys, but this thing with Theon had felt different. Since she couldn’t have him the way she truly wanted, she’d hoped to at least salvage their friendship; now it seems like she’s lost both.

A knock at the door sends her wallowing screeching to an abrupt halt. It’s after nine o’clock, there’s no reason anyone should be at the door this late- she and Theon had kept their not-a-relationship quiet from their shared friends, especially the ones she was related to, and she’d planned on having wine for dinner so it couldn’t be takeout. The knocking becomes more intense, almost frenzied, and she assumes it must be one of her neighbors, though she can’t imagine what for. Maybe sweet, absent-minded Alla managed to lock herself out again without her phone and needs someone to call the building super; or Mrs. Rayder, who’s heavily pregnant and ready to pop any day now, needing someone to watch little Aemon while she rushed to hospital.

So, the very last person Sansa expects on her doorstep this late is Theon, panting from exertion with a strange, almost frenzied look in his eyes. 

_“Theon?_ What- what are you doing- gods, are you alright?” she stammers, eyes scanning him up and down. He looks like he’d been roughed up, scrapes on his hands and a bruise rapidly purpling on his jaw, with melting snow dripping from his hair.

“Slipped, my bike, on the road, an icy patch,” he manages to get out between pants, waving off her immediately pulling out her phone to call for an ambulance. “’M fine, promise, just- lemme catch my breath. This, wasn’t how I’d planned it, _fuck!”_

“Seven hells, just come inside before you pass out.” She urges him in and onto the couch, helping him out of his damp coat and shoes. “Now, out with it, what’s with the fuss, and why are you here?”

“I took Vi out to dinner, for Valentine’s Day-”

“Oh, didn’t realize she was _‘Vi’_ now,” Sansa mutters.

“C’mon Stark, can we keep the passive aggression down to, like, a four?” Theon says, sounding completely exasperated. “I’m trying to say something here.”

Sansa throws up her hands. “Fine, fine! Say whatever you need to say, then you can get back to Vi.”

“That’s what I’m _trying_ to tell you!” he exclaims. “Look, Violet is perfectly nice, and maybe on paper we’d be good together. But we were sitting there talking about the last couple weeks and if we saw it going anywhere, and I just… I didn’t. I don’t. And, and I know when we started this we said it’d just be casual, and I respect that, I’m not trying to change that-”

Sansa feels like her head is spinning from the rush of words coming out of his mouth. “Wait, slow down! Theon, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying-” He pauses a moment to gather his courage, then barrels on ahead. “I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. And I know you’re not interested, so I’ll back off, but I can’t let this end without telling you how I feel.”

“I-I…” Of all the things she’d been expecting him to say, that was lightyears away. “But, I thought you liked Violet?”

“And I just told you, I don’t,” he says patiently. “I like you.”

“Then why did you go out with her?”

“Because you told me to! When I told you about her flirting, you practically threw me her way! I thought this was your way of telling me you were done with this.”

Sansa makes an unflattering croaky sound; she can’t decide whether she’s about to laugh or cry. “Up until five seconds ago I didn’t even know there was a this! I didn’t even know you wanted that!”

“Well that’s why I’m telling you now!”

_“Well_ then that’s great, because I like you too!”

The apartment falls suddenly quiet as they stare at each other: at some point they’d started shouting, but now that they’re both dumbstruck, the silence comes as a shock. Sansa can practically feel her brain short-circuiting. A year of sleeping together, and she never even suspected her feelings might be reciprocated. Clearly she wasn’t alone in that, judging by the gob smacked look on Theon’s face. His face, which still has scrapes sluggishly oozing blood.

“Right, shit. We’ve clearly got some stuff to talk about, but first I’m going to get the medikit and clean you up,” she declares. 

She does a quick sprint to the closet where she keeps the kit and when she returns Theon seems to be coming down from the adrenaline of the last hour. He proves to be a decent patient, moving gingerly when she tells him to and keeping mostly quiet while she cleans his scrapes. All of his injuries seem to be mostly superficial, though he’ll likely be feeling those bruised ribs for the next week. Sansa fights to avoid his gaze as she spreads arnica gel over his purpling side.

At last he’s tended to, and neither of them can put this off any longer. Sansa packs up the medikit and settles down, this time on the couch next to him instead of across the room.

“The only reason I said you should go out with Violet is because I thought you were tired of being friends with benefits and wanted a real relationship,” she explains.

“I mean, you were partially right,” he says, a hint of his usual smirk coming back. “I just don’t want that with Violet. Problem was I didn’t think _you_ wanted that.”

After a moment, Sansa admits, “we’ve both been rather stupid, haven’t we?”

“Oh, gods yeah,” Theon laughs. Then more tentatively he takes her hand. “But the good news is, now we can be stupid together?”

“Definitely.” Now would be probably be the perfect time to lean in and kiss him, but- while Sansa fully intends to do so later- something important occurs to her. “Wait, _please_ tell me you did not just leave Violet at the restaurant all by herself.”

“Hey now, I’m not _that_ self-absorbed!” Theon protests. “Once I explained, she actually told me I should tell you how I feel. After I paid for dinner and got her a cab…”

“And then you decided to ride here like a maniac?”

“It looks worse than it is!” he insists. “Bike’s fine, my body took most of the damage.” 

“That… doesn’t really make me feel any better.”

Theon fails to hide a wince. “Doesn’t feel too great from where I’m sitting either.” Sansa looks him over again; she’s patched him up alright, but he’s clearly flagging.

“Well c’mon then, let’s get you into bed- not for that, you’d probably fall asleep halfway through.” 

Sansa helps him get to his feet slowly, and with much groaning on Theon’s part, then hobble to the bedroom and collapse on the bed. She helps him wriggle out of his jeans before stripping down herself and tucking them in. Theon’s fading fast, eyelids struggling to stay open, but he’s still conscious enough to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her in close.

“Sorry ‘bout the crap Valentine’s Day,” he slurs into her collarbone. Sansa thinks about the pity wine abandoned on the counter, and how she didn’t realize what she wanted until she almost lost it.

She presses a kiss to his head, and whispers, “I think it actually turned out pretty good.”

* * *

_Then_

“Oh c’mon, work with me here,” Sansa huffs, struggling to make her key turn in the lock. The old lock to her family’s home already tends to stick in the winter, so of course it’s even more fussy now while she’s juggling a load of groceries. _And_ it’s snowing, because why not?

“Why won’t you _just-”_

The door flings open inward, nearly causing her to tumble over the threshold and right into the arms of one equally surprised Theon Greyjoy.

They stare at each other, blinking, until Theon breaks the silence. “What’re you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” Sansa exclaims. “I happen to _live_ here, what’s your excuse?”

“It’s actually- hey, d’ya wanna come inside, it’s fuckin’ cold out here?”

Sansa sputters at that. “Do I wanna- _yes_ I’d like to come into my own house, thank you very much!” She shoulders in past him, grocery bags swinging wildly as she stamps the snow from her boots. A quick glance around the house shows Theon’s coat and shoes by the door and Shaggydog sprawled out on the couch, the wolfdog looking completely unbothered by this apparent intruder. 

“Whatcha got there?” Theon asks as she begins putting her groceries away.

“Nuh-uh, you first. Why are you here, today of all days?”

Because today happens to be Valentine’s Day, and Sansa had thoroughly expected to spend the evening wallowing in self-pity of her perpetual singleness. Everyone else in her family has special plans for the night, from her parents- still sickeningly in love going on thirty years- to Rickon with whatever weird love-hate relationship he has going on with Lyanna Mormont. She’d been very much looking forward to having the house to herself, planning on icing a truly absurd amount of cookies and eating her feelings with no one there to judge her for it. So Theon being here is really throwing a spanner in the works.

“Loras dumped me,” he says flatly. Sansa pauses, hand halfway to the pantry door.

“Wait, he… on _Valentine’s Day?”_

“Oh, no,” Theon clarifies hastily. “No, over a week ago. Honestly I don’t even really care, we were hardly serious. But with today being the way it is, it was all just-”

“A bit much?” Sansa can definitely relate to that. Theon seems to relax at her sympathy. 

“Didn’t really want to stay at home, but I’m not exactly up for socializing at the moment. So, Arya said I could hang out here for a bit while everyone’s out, keep myself busy with Shaggy. Wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Guess that makes two of us,” she says wryly, making sure to smile to lessen the harshness. She and Theon have never been particularly close, but with all her siblings and friends cuddled up with their significant others, it was nice to find someone else who just wanted to be a curmudgeon about this stupid holiday. 

“So, your turn,” Theon demands playfully. “What’s in the bags? And more importantly, do they have anything to do with those cookies I saw?” Sansa laughs at the massive puppy dog eyes he’s sending her way. 

“Yes, alright, keep your pants on, Cookie-Monster.” She starts setting out her purchases on the counter: confectioner’s sugar, syrup, flavored extracts, food coloring, decorating bags, and a ridiculous amount of different sprinkles. Theon lets out an appreciative whistle, picking up a box of assorted confetti candy heart and examining it.

“Should’ve known you couldn’t even do a pity-party halfway.”

“Do you want cookies or not?”

“Cookies please,” he says hastily. Sansa can’t help but smirk at his eagerness: the best way to a man’s heart really was his stomach. She grabs one of her favorite aprons and tosses him a spare, before getting to work making a shit-ton of icing. It probably would’ve been easier to just get the store bought stuff, but this was the only way she could guarantee the proper consistency for the best cookie decorating.

Alright, so _maybe_ Theon had a point about her, and her perfectionist ways. Sansa couldn’t help it; and if zeroing in on this tiny, stupid task distracted her thoughts from spiraling about how she was an unlovable freak doomed to die alone and desperately horny, then that’s just what she’d have to do.

With the bags of rainbow icing prepared, she pulls out the now-cooled cookies and sets them on racks to decorate. They start chipping away at the mountain of cookies, falling into a comfortable silence. Theon is quick to snatch up a simple heart cookie and start going to town on it with a bag of violently pink icing. The control freak in her wants to make him slow down, but he’s a guest in her home, however unexpected-slash-unwanted his presence might be.

After they’ve made their way through several cookies, Sansa is surprised to realize she’s actually enjoying his company. Sure he’s way messier than she’d usually tolerate, but for some reason the lumpy globs of icing and spilled sprinkles doesn’t bother her. She tells herself it’s because this holiday has her so maudlin, she’d put up with anything if it’d make her feel less alone.

Theon breaks the quiet, saying, “did you know that the heart shape is supposed to be a woman’s arse?”

“Really?” She leans over to look at the heart he’s piling sanding sugar onto. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s like you’re looking at her bent over, yeah?” Theon explains, tracing a finger over the two humps of the heart.

“But shouldn’t it be upside down?”

“Naw, cause these are her legs, see?” He grabs a fresh heart cookie and draws a crude pair of panties at the top in icing, then a line down the center to represent where the ‘legs’ press together. Sansa can sort of see what he means now, but from a design point-of-view it’s rather poor.

“Mmm, I still think it should be the other way round,” she says, flipping the cookie to demonstrate.

Theon snorts. “Now it looks like tits.”

Sansa sputters indignantly. “It does not!”

“A real saggy pair of tits.”

“Fine then,” Sansa declares. She grabs a fresh heart cookie and flips it upside down, drawing a quick bra on and finishing the entire thing off with a delicate V of cleavage. “Now they’re perky, happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Theon snatches up the finished cookie and takes a bite, moaning exaggeratedly. Sansa laughs at his antics despite herself, and steals one of his cookies in retaliation. It’s garishly decorated, with runny icing and sprinkles piled high, sugar crystals that crunch between her teeth as she chews. Whatever it lacks in aesthetic, it more than makes up for in taste.

Now that she’s made good on her promise of cookies, she says, “so, if you thought I’d let you get out of telling me the full story about what happened between you and Loras, you clearly don’t know me at all.”

“There’s no more story!” Theon protests. “We just had… different expectations about where the relationship was going.”

“Such as?”

“Nothing, it’s dumb.”

“Come on, you can tell me,” she prods. “I’m at home, single on Valentine’s Day, making four dozen cookies for myself, because I only seem to attract total sociopaths. Not exactly in a position to judge you, here.”

“He said he wanted someone who was ‘serious about’, and ‘invested’ in ‘a mature relationship,’” Theon grumbles around a mouthful of cookie, making air quotes so intense they send crumbs flying.

“And you…”

“Thought things were fine the way they were! We both went into this knowing exactly what it was.”

“Casual?” she suggests.

“Sex,” he corrects. 

“Ah-”

“Just some filthy, no-strings-attached sex, really animalistic-”

“Yeah, I get the picture.” 

And _now_ he’s got her imagining him in all sorts of compromised ways. She can’t tell whether she’s annoyed or not. It’s nothing she hasn’t heard before, Theon’s always been a bit of a braggart when it comes to his sexual exploits, whatever their gender. She’d never minded it, actually found it oddly comforting to know another bisexual person who was so open about their preferences, but that had been all it was: just a sort of acknowledgement, almost clinical in its detachment. Theon enjoyed casual sex, that was just a fact.

But for some reason now it’s doing _things_ to her- and maybe it’s just because she’s lonely, and he’s hot, and it’s bloody Valentine’s Day, because suddenly she finds herself saying, “I could go for some filthy, no-strings-attached sex right around now.”

Theon laughs, but when he looks at her now there’s a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Oh yeah, sure ya could.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” she says indignantly.

“Catch yerself on, Sans!” he teases. “You’re, like, the most proper little lady I know.”

“So that means I can’t have a one night stand?”

Theon looks her over with raised eyebrows. _“Have_ you ever?”

Point to Theon, she concedes.

“Perhaps it’s time I give it a chance,” Sansa says. She draws herself up to her full height; it makes the inch she has on him even more evident, and she has no qualms about using it to her advantage. “Of course, first I’d need to find someone who’d be interested…”

She hardly has time to let the words linger suggestively before Theon slips an arm around her waist and pulls her in close. He pauses, long enough to meet her gaze and read the assent there, then their mouths are crashing together; she can taste the sugary sweetness of the cookies on his tongue.

They fumble eagerly at each other’s clothing, fingers becoming a tangled mess as they race to see who can undress the other first. Theon stumbles backwards and slams his hip on the counter’s sharp corner, hissing in pain; the sound makes Sansa pause, stopping to check. There’s a red indent smack on the boney part of his hip: it’s sure to bruise something fierce, but for now Theon brushes it off.

“Bedroom?”

“Yes, that’d be best,” she pants, catching his hand and pulling him towards her room. They strip as they go, leaving a trail of clothes like breadcrumbs. Sansa lays him back on the bed and leans over to kiss her way down his neck, while he sets about unlatching her bra. He tangles his fingers in her hair and gives a gentle tug until she looks at him.

“Before we get any further, you should know the first rule of hook ups,” Theon murmurs, “you can’t fall in love with me.”

Sansa starts to laugh, until she realizes that he’s being serious. “Well, someone thinks high of himself! Don’t worry, Greyjoy, that won’t be a problem. We both know exactly what this is.” Theon’s serious expression twists back to his usual cocky grin and he pulls her back down into a searing kiss. Sansa goes easily, quickly becoming lost in the way their bodies move together.

Whatever Theon’s concerns, Sansa has no illusions about how this’ll go; they’re just two people scratching an itch. There’s absolutely no way anything will come of this.

**Author's Note:**

> There's no fancy way to say this, so here goes: Theon breaks his penis, a la Schmidt in New Girl. The actual injury happens offscreen, though it is described by healthcare professionals in a medical setting. I'm including some links with further information about it, because you know how I love to cite my sources: [1](https://www.healthline.com/health/mens-health/penile-fracture) [2](https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/can-you-really-break-your/). As always, do not take anything I write as medical advice, especially when it comes to an injury as serious as this. I also thoroughly blame Janie for inspiring it when I told her I wanted to write a disastrous V-Day story, but you should know her suggestion was actually _way worse!_


End file.
